


counting starts

by JoanofArc



Series: darejones [4]
Category: Daredevil (TV), Jessica Jones (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Defenders (Marvel TV)
Genre: Christmas Fluff, F/M, Fluff, because marvel can bite me, merry christmas have some tooth rotting fluff, nothing hurts and everything is fine, the defenders are a family, they're soft and happy and it's what they deserve, this is placed in an au where they're actually there for each other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-23
Updated: 2018-12-23
Packaged: 2019-09-25 18:54:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17126876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JoanofArc/pseuds/JoanofArc
Summary: it's christmas. danny made them sweaters. matt and jess are in love.





	counting starts

"c'mon, jess, _pleaaaaase?"_ danny's holding the hideous thing like it's the most precious thing in the world, and she really wants to smack that puppy dog look off his face. she's been desensitised to that type of pleading. it's not going to work on her. it's not.

she's a grown ass woman with more important things to do than to pander to the wills of an overgrown man child, no matter how much she actually doesn't hate said man child. she's got a case she's working on, and matt had promised her a quiet night, with none of the fastidious shit that goes with this particular time of the year. 

except it totally does work on her. so that's how she ends up here, half an hour later, broody and annoyed, wearing a fucking christmas sweater out of all things. it's not even that ugly - blue, because everything is colour coded with rand, with a reindeer stitched onto the front, but it's the principle of things that counts.

"try acting like you hate this a little more," matt's voice, warm and with that underlining drawl that comes out only after he's had a few glasses (or in the bedroom.) his sweater is, predictably, red. but it has a little rudimentary devil on it, and she really can't bring herself to hate it.

he's arrived with foggy in tow, already wearing the damn thing. foggy, as it is, is busying himself with asking colleen to show him some moves. by the looks of it, they're both already a little tipsy, curtesy to the early josie-date with karen before she went off to meet frank. not that jessica is actually going to say that to matt. 

so she grins, leans into the hand he places on her arm, "i don't do christmas."

it's an argument which she has been making since december first rolled around, and which loses its actual weight the more she says it. 

"well, too bad, because you're not gettin' outta this." luke's arms envelop the two of them, bringing them into a semblance of a hug. claire, the traitor, isn't wearing a sweater as she moves through the room, pressing a mug of spiked hot chocolate into jessica's waiting hand. honestly, claire can be kind of scary if she wants to, with how she has managed to kick all of them back into shape more times than jessica can count, so she's really not surprised by the fact that she was allowed to come in a dress. 

thing is, danny made the sweaters. he's been going to a class after his therapist suggested something to keep him entertained, and he's been excited about this for months.

luke's is forest green, threaded through with silver in what's meant to resemble snowflakes. he's wearing it like he's about to go on a fashion runway, but the bittersweet tang of _might have been_ jessica has come to expect in his presence is gone. maybe this is what moving on feels like.

and then she looks at matt, smiling that goofy smile at his, ruffling danny's hair and laughing at something colleen said, foggy, to his left, somehow managing to make a snort look graceful, and she knows for sure that there's no space for bitterness in her heart.

okay, maybe only a little bit. but that's because she has an image to maintain.

she takes a sip of her mug, and then another. the alcohol in her cocoa is surprisingly strong. when she throws an accusing look at claire, she only shrugs her shoulder, the picture of innocence. how in the world did she end up with these fucking dorks?

it's not really long before jessica steps away from the group, nursing her drink, content to just watch on for a while. it's not entirely suffocating, and she doesn't feel the need to bail, even if she did think about it earlier in the evening. but she knows she wouldn't have done it even if she really wanted to. she just needs a little space from all that excitement. 

they're all gathered around the christmas tree danny and colleen have erected in the middle of the dojo, music playing softly from the speakers luke had brought months ago for their quote unquote training session.

foggy is the designated storyteller for the moment, it seems, talking about something that had happened in college, to matt's eternal petulant vexation, while luke is trying to convince claire to dance, even though jess is pretty sure that none of them are drunk enough for that yet.

and it's warm. there's a feeling in her chest she's unfamiliar with, like something has finally uncoiled to allow her to breathe.

she never thought she'd get to have this again - this sense of togetherness, of safety. not after her parent's death, and certainly not after kilgrave. and yet they have managed to find each other, this group of fucked up people, with trauma histories so big she's surprised they still have the ability to laugh. and they decided that, for some weird reason she can't phantom, she's worthy to be part of it. even as she had tried to refuse so many times.

"you okay?" she looks away from the commotion to take in matt, concerned look painted on his face. it softens when she reaches over to take his hand, lips involuntarily pulling into a smile. his own mouth mirrors hers, and for a moment, she's struck by just how handsome he looks, freshly shaved and soft, like the weight of the world is, for once, not on his shoulders. she wishes she could give him more moments like this - more of this quiet gentleness, because their lives are too full of violence and disaster anyway.

"yeah. yeah i'm good." her heart must have clued him in on something she's unaware of, because he leans over to kiss her, the touch chaste and sweet and so heavy with meaning she feels her chest tighten. in this moment, nothing else matters. not the noise of their little group, not the fact that they can probably see them, even hidden as they are by the semi darkness she had previously retreated to.

just her and matt, and this feeling she cannot name, but feels growing and growing until its about to burst.

(she doesn't call it love. love is too close to a past she doesn't want to relieve, of mauve smiles and a sugary sweet voice is her ear telling her to undress. it's always accompanied by a _smile, jessica,_ by a _happy anniversary,_   _say you love this,_ a broad hand on her waist which she does not want. 

but it's close to that. untainted, and soft. not naming it doesn't make it any less _real.)_

matt grins against her lips, bringing up one hand to brush his fingers over her cheeks, the touch reverent and soft, like he's committing her to memory. he probably is. "you still regret agreeing to come?"

she knows that if she says yes, he's going to fabricate an excuse for them to leave early. he's taken it upon himself to make sure that she feels safe, and she's still learning to accept to let go of her control when it comes to him. because he's not trying to map out her life for her - and she always, _always_ has a choice. he'd sacrifice the fact that he wants to stay just to make her happy.

jessica has never known what to do with selfless acts, but it feels less painful now. and she stopped expecting the guilt tripping long ago.

"nah, it's... it's nice. but tell anyone i said that and i'm going to hang you by your balls."

the laugh that gets her is startled, a soft little sound she's started to associate with moments when she's being particularly bitchy, but he's still so close to her she can't really help herself but lean in to kiss it right off his lips.

"wouldn't dream of it. what would the world think? jessica jones, private investigator and part time vigilante, going _soft,"_ he says, face bright with mirth. she doesn't put much force into the light nudge of her knuckle against his arm, but he plays along anyway, making a fake-startled little noise and rubbing the spot.

"jesus, you're so full of shit, murdock."

she knows they're grinning at each other like idiots, but his arm feels right around her waist, and she never, _ever_ wants to let go.

and then reality crashes, in the form of danny rand, because that's usually how it goes.

" wait, are you two together?!"

jessica pulls back from matt just in time to see colleen's exasperared sigh, and foggy's eye roll, which truly is a thing of beauty. she has a feeling he'd perfected it over time due to sheer proximity to the disaster that matt murdock is, and maybe she likes the guy, despite him being one of hogarth's soulless lackeys. matt's hand tightens at her hip, but she only sighs out a laugh, tugs on his hand so they can rejoin the others.

luke is grinning, but he reaches over to pat danny on the back anyway, the motion earning him a mellow glare. "dude. they've been fucking for months now."

it all descends into chaos after that. bruised egos are soothed, bottles of champagne are opened, all to the background noise of chatter, sappy christmas songs and laughter.

this is her family, jessica decides, as she leans into matt's side, watching danny spin a too-drunk colleen around until they collapse together in a heap of arms and infantile giggles. it's small, and bruised, and sometimes their broken edges don't align perfectly, but it's _hers._ and she wouldn't trade it for anything else. 


End file.
